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In 1993, local talent agent Beverly Delich held a contest at the Big Bamboo in Vancouver, and when a charismatic young man from Burnaby got onstage and sang It Had To Be You, the whole nightclub went crazy. He was the clear winner, but there was a hitch — he was only 18 and not even allowed in the club. He was disqualified.

Out of that unceremonious meeting came a close professional relationship that would forever change the lives of both the 53-year-old Delich and her then-unknown contestant, Michael Bublé. Over the course of the next decade, Delich would guide Bublé’s early career as his manager, seldom leaving his side as they struggled to get a foothold in the tough music industry. In 2003, as Bublé’s self-titled CD was about to become an international hit, Delich stepped aside, handing the managerial reins of her talented charge to Bruce Allen.

Come Fly with me: Michael Bublé’s Rise to Stardom is Delich’s candid memoir, a never-before-told story of their adventure of a lifetime.

Excerpt 1: How it all began

I loved working at the PNE, and even though I started out with the responsibility for the Youth Talent Search and the Kids’ Talent Search, my role gradually expanded as the years went on.

During the months between fairs, Ray (Carroll, formerly of The Platters) and I continued with our talent contests around town and, in 1993, we found ourselves holding court one night at the Big Bamboo nightclub on Broadway.

We’d convinced the club owner into letting us do the contest, that it was a great way to bring in people and, in turn, sell liquor. We’d get a percentage from the door. I was the organizer, and Ray was one of the judges. One of the other judges I had asked to join us for the weeknight contest, held in the club’s upstairs tiki-style room, was Hugh Pickett, by then a well-known local impresario who had made a name for himself by bringing big acts like Mitzi Gaynor and Bette Midler to Vancouver venues like the Cave Supper Club.

I got to know Hugh when Ray and I were booking The Platters around town because Hugh would come to all the shows. He was enigmatic and charming, though very private, aloof in a way, and always said whatever was on his mind because he really didn’t care what others thought about him. We had hit it off instantly, and would become life-long friends.

One of the contestants who had signed up that night at the Big Bamboo was a good-looking young man wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans. He had signed up to sing It Had To Be You, a 1924 standard, but as we were busy preparing to start the evening, he was becoming more and more impatient and kept coming over to the judges’ table, leaning over Hugh and me, and bugging us about when the show would start. It was starting to annoy Hugh, who kept turning to me, through the pursed lips he was so well known for, and saying “Who is that?” :

“It’s Michael Bublé,” I told him. “He’s one of the contestants.”

There were about 10 performers that night and they used recorded music--the contestants had to come with background tapes--and when Michael got up on the stage and sang, everybody in the club just went crazy. He took the microphone off the stand and was moving all over the stage and had such a beautiful smooth voice and strong presence. He was slim, with high pompadour-style hair and just so full of energy, and when he crooned It Had To Be You, his voice somewhere between Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra, the room stood still.

Hugh turned to me, lips pursed again, and said: “Who is this?”

And I said, “Oh my God.” We didn’t know what to think. Except that, clearly, Michael Bublé was the winner.

Turned out there was a little problem, though, which I hadn’t caught during the registration process and didn’t notice until after everyone had performed, after we had picked Michael as the winner.

Michael couldn’t win because he wasn’t old enough. I discussed it with Hugh, and we agreed we had to stick to the rules, so I had to go over and tell our winner that he wasn’t the winner. Michael was sitting with some friends in a booth on the other side of the club, laughing and talking.

“Michael,” I said, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Okay, the good news is that you’ve won the contest, but the bad news is that you’re not even supposed to be in here. You’re not 19, and this is a club and I have to disqualify you. I’m on the line here and this is illegal.”

Excerpt 2: Singing for Paul Anka

In Vancouver, in late August, Michael was back headlining the Pacific National Exhibition, where he had been “discovered” six years before, and it wasn’t lost on either one of us how odd it seemed that one weekend he would be singing for David Foster and hobnobbing with the Hollywood elite and the next be on stage playing his hometown agricultural fair.

It was a perfect, and frustrating, example of what was working for us, and what, in many ways, wasn’t.

And then came Sept. 11, 2001, and everyone’s world changed.

Shortly after the terrorist attacks that felled Manhattan’s Twin Towers and killed thousands, David called Michael and said that because no one was flying out of fear of future attacks, comedian and Tonight Show host Jay Leno had decided to hold two free concerts in Las Vegas on the weekend of Sept. 29. A frequent headliner in Vegas, he had heard that tourism had been flagging since 9/11. The shows would be at the 1,700-seat EFX theatre in the MGM Grand and Jay asked only that ticket holders tip their servers well.

David was a friend of Leno’s and when he heard about the comedian’s plans, he made arrangements for Michael to open the shows. He wouldn’t be paid, of course, but we were over the moon.

Amber and the whole family drove Michael and me to the airport. We were so excited, and as the plane headed south toward Las Vegas, I never felt safer, or more sure this might be Michael’s moment. Something told me that this might be the break. We still didn’t have the $450,000, but I just had a feeling that this was it. The big break.

It was a great show. Michael sang and got a wonderful response from the audience, and a huge ovation as he was leaving the stage, except he realized later that most of it was for Leno, who was coming out on stage as Michael was heading into the wings. Michael laughed about it afterward, and we watched Leno’s show and it was terrific. Such a funny man. Jay was also very complimentary of Michael and, as the evening wound down, we were feeling good about things.

The next morning, a Sunday, David phoned Michael in his room and said: “You and Bev need to get in a cab and get over here to The Mirage. I’m here with Paul Anka. He’s a friend of mine and I think he can help us.”

Paul Anka. Ottawa-born singer and songwriter, teenage idol, the 1950s crooner who sold millions of records with hits like Diana and Put Your Head On My Shoulder, the man who wrote songs like My Way, for Frank Sinatra, and She’s A Lady, for Tom Jones. A music legend.

I said: “Oh my God, Michael, he’s my idol.”

We got to The Mirage and walked down a long hallway and knocked on the door of Paul’s room.

David and Linda and Paul and his girlfriend were all in luxurious white robes, seated at a big table, having brunch. David introduced us to Paul and I told him how excited I was to meet him. Paul looked at me and said: “Okay, tell me the story.

We sat at the table, and had coffee and I told Paul everything, about Michael’s start, and the BaBalu CD and all the people we had asked for help who never came through for us, and how we couldn’t raise the $450,000 that David needed for the new CD.

I knew Paul liked me because of my sincerity, because when I talked about Michael, it was always from the heart, because that’s just the way I felt. I told him we just needed help and that I didn’t even know what that looked like, but that all this time we had just been looking for someone to find us. I think that touched him.

When David wandered off to use the telephone, Paul turned to me and said: “I think I can help you. I think I can get the money for David to produce the CD.”

Well, of course, I cried.

David got off the phone and looked over and said: “Why is Bev crying?”

“Well, she’s verklempt,” said Michael, “because Paul said he could help us.”

David looked at Paul, and we knew that they had already talked about it.

Linda and Paul’s girlfriend decided to go for a massage, so Paul and David and Michael and I went out on to the patio and talked some more. And then Paul asked Michael to sing for him.

David arranged for us to use a room in The Mirage that had a piano. When Paul and David went off to get changed, Michael, who had always given me such a hard time for wearing my heart on my sleeve, said: “Bev, that was really good. You’ve got to learn to cry on demand.”

The four of us walked down the hall and into a room with a black baby grand. David sat down at the piano, Michael stood near him and Paul sat down on a chair beside me, arms crossed, sunglasses on, his head down and covered by a baseball cap. Michael, with David accompanying him, launched into several songs, including My Way, the huge hit Paul had written for Frank Sinatra.

When he was done, the room was quiet. Paul looked up and said, softly: “Yeah, yeah, it’s good. It’s good.”

Nobody said much after that, and then we got up the leave. When we got to the door, I hugged Paul and said how great it had been to meet him, and he said to me, just like that: “I can help you.”

Beverly Delich will be signing copies of Come Fly With Me: Michael Bublé’s Rise to Stardom at the Robson Street location of Chapters on Nov. 20 at 7 p.m.

Michael Bublé will be kicking off a 2014 Canadian tour in Vancouver on June 19. A Christmas special hosted by Bublé will be airing on Dec. 16.

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Michael Bublé’s first manager recounts singing star’s rise to fame in new memoir

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